quiet life, Mr. Dick. This place is making me old."

"Nonsense! We're going to work together, and we'll make this the busiest
spot in seven counties. Dorothy and I have got it all planned out and
we've got some corking good ideas." He put his hands in his pockets and
strutted up and down. "It's the day of advertising, you know, Minnie,"
he said. "You've got to have the goods, and then you've got to
let people know you've got the goods. What would you say to a
shooting-gallery in the basement, under the reading-room?"

"Fine!" I said, with sarcasm, turning my slippers. "If things got
too quiet that would wake them up a bit, and we could have a balloon
ascension on Saturdays!"

"Not an ascension," said he, with my bitterness going right over his
head. "Nothing sensational, Minnie. That's the way with women; they're
always theatrical. But what's the matter with a captive balloon, and
letting fresh-air cranks sleep in a big basket bed--say, at five hundred
feet? Or a thousand--a thousand would be better. The air's purer."

"With a net below," says I, "in case they should turn over and fall out
of bed! It's funny nobody ever thought of it before!"

"Isn't it?" exclaimed Mrs. Dick. "And we've all sorts of ideas.
Dick--Mr. Carter has learned of a brand new cocktail for the men--"

"A lulu!" he broke in.

"And I'm going around to read to the old ladies and hold their hands--"

"You'll have to chloroform them first," I put in. "Perhaps it would be
better to give the women the cocktail and hold the men's hands."

"Oh, if you're going to be funny!" Mr. Dick said savagely, "we'll not
tell you any more. I've been counting on you, Minnie. You've been here
so long. You know," he said to his wife, "when I was a little shaver I
thought Minnie had webbed-feet--she was always on the bank, like a duck.
You ARE a duck, Minnie," he says to me; "a nice red-headed duck! Now
don't be quirky and spoil everything."

I couldn't be light-hearted to save my life.

"Your sister's been wild all day," I told Mrs. Dick. "She got your
letter to-day--yesterday--but I don't think she's told your father yet."

"What!" she screeched, and caught at the mantelpiece to hold herself.
"Not Pat!" she said, horrified, "and father! Here!"

Well, I listened while they told me. They hadn't had the faintest idea
that Mr. Jennings and Miss Patty were there at the sanatorium. The girl
had been making a round of visits in the Christmas holidays, and instead